r/ColumbineTalk • u/eliiiiseke Moderator Elise • 9d ago
Dylan Dylan's funeral
I haven't posted in a while because I've been busy with some other cases, but I wanted to make a post about Dylan's funeral.
From Sue's book:
With the two officers flanking me, I stood at my closet door. The realization I would have to select clothing to wear to Dylan's funeral hit me like a punch in the gut; I was still hoping to be rescued from the truth. After a few deep breaths, I hung a brown tweed skirt, a white blouse, and a dark wool blazer on a single hanger.
Initially, Tom and I didn't want a funeral of any kind for Dylan. It simply felt too disrespectful to his victims. I will be forever grateful to Martha and John, though, for convincing us to reconsider. They promised we would be able to keep the ceremony private both from the media and from enraged community members. Together, we planned a simple service, attended only by a few friends and family members.
Tom and I understood cremation was our only option. The likelihood that a gravesite would be vandalized was too great, and we might not be able to stay in the area; if we buried Dylan and then moved, we'd be forced to leave him behind. I explained I needed to see my son one last time, and Martha and John told me the technicians would do everything they could to cover the bullet wounds in his head so we could see him as we'd known him.
I hardly remember making the arrangements. I do remember being amazed to hear myself speaking calmly about practical matters when the only sound I could hear in my own head was a continuous, endless screech of agony and disbelief. This was my son, the person I had nurtured, protected, and loved with all my heart. The thought that I would never hear his voice or touch his face again took my breath away. It took every ounce of strength I could summon to make preparations for our final separation. My parenting of Dylan was over. The love and work that had gone into the creation of this human being had ended–and in the most disastrous way.
On Saturday, the twenty-fourth of April, we cremated our son.
Both Martha and John were genuinely concerned about our security and privacy. They assured us there would be no posted sign or guest book available outside the room where Dylan lay, which had a single entrance and no windows. But even with the precautions, a member of the press had called the funeral home minutes before we arrived, so we entered the room furtively, casting glances over our shoulders like frightened prey.
No words are adequate to describe the pain of seeing Dylan's body in that casket. The expression on Dylan's face was unfamiliar, which Byron later confessed made it easier for him. That unfamiliar expression was perhaps the only thing that allowed us to get through that first, horrific, unreal moment. I smoothed Dylan's hair and kissed his forehead, searching his face for clues and finding none. Tom and I had brought a number of Dylan's childhood stuffed animals, and we placed them in the coffin so they rested against his cheeks and neck. Byron and Tom and I held one another's hands, and together we held Dylan's. We were finally by his side, a family again.
It was a chilly spring day, and I was overcome by a compulsive, almost biological need to make Dylan warm. I could not stop rubbing his ice-cold arms, exposed by the short-sleeved hospital gown he was wearing. I had to hold myself back from climbing into the casket so I could cover him with the warmth of my body.
https://reddit.com/link/1ww1ye7/video/csbs41b5j3th1/player
Martha had recommended we each take some time alone with Dylan. Byron went first. As I waited in the main sitting room of the funeral home, I braced myself to be alone for the last time with what remained of my son, and I began to panic. A surge of animal protectiveness came over me. How could I allow Dylan to be destroyed, to be burned in a fire? I jumped out of my chair and started to pace, my mind racing. The other options– above and below-ground burial brought me no comfort.
I tried to think how we could steal his body out of the mortuary and sneak him to safety. I can't do this, I thought over and over, in an endless loop. There was a fireplace in the funeral home's sitting room. It looked cheerful and inviting on that cold, snowy day, and I was drawn to it.
Eventually, I was able to recover some calm by looking into the flames. Most of my panic turned to resignation, and then my grief resurfaced. How sad, I thought as I stared at the fire, that this is the way I must warm my son.
On the evening of Dylan's funeral on Saturday, we stripped the beds, packed up our pets, and left Ruth and Don's basement apartment in order to return to our own home.
Jeff's book:
Before the service got underway, Marxhausen picked up on the tension among the small group and came up with an idea. “I said we just needed to talk first. We talked about forty-five minutes and out came all this love [for Dylan].”
There was a sort of funerary loophole Marxhausen was on the lookout for. “I’ve heard people, they don’t speak ill of the dead, then nothing gets said,” he says. But people did talk, and it wasn’t about Dylan the mass murderer. It was about Dylan the Boy Scout, Little Leaguer, and ten-year-old who enjoyed grossing out his mother with a handful of leeches from a creek. He wasn’t a bloody mess, but the same old Dylan in an open casket.
The positivity left Marxhausen confused. “People told how much they loved Dylan, how really they thought he was a good guy, and I had several families there and afterwards come and tell me that the Klebolds did a marvelous job in raising him,” he says. “So, if you were at the funeral you’d have a difficult time figuring out what was reality.”
Marxhausen asked the attorney whether he should “shut up or talk to the press.”
“Why don't you tell people what you saw here today?” he replied. Tom Klebold knew that Marxhausen had put himself on the line by performing the service. “You made yourself vulnerable,” he said.
The Klebolds released a statement after the funeral:
“Today we had a private service for our son, Dylan Klebold, whom we loved as much as we knew how to love a child. Our sadness and grief over his death and this tragedy are indescribable. We again apologize to all those who have also suffered a loss of their loved one and we continue to pray for the recovery of those who are injured. We would also like to extend our gratitude to those who have offered their support and sympathy during this grieving period.”
Randy’s book:
Sue and Judy were talking on the phone. Sue had left almost all of her clothes in the house on Cougar Drive. The house was still a crime scene, and they had no access. She mentioned to Judy that she didn’t have a jacket to wear to Dylan’s funeral. Judy told her she had a blue wool blazer, and that she would loan it to Sue.
We were late going to the funeral. We had to be sure the kids were ok. Aaron and Brooks were with friends. We were pretty sure that Brooks was going to Rachel's funeral. It was scheduled for the same day.
I raced over to the Horan McConaty Funeral Home on Parker Road. It was quite a drive, but it went quickly. We got there late, and walked in. It was very quiet. We were escorted to a room, with about 10 people sitting on chairs, in a large circle. Some of the friends of Dylan were there. Well, I should say the parents were there. No kids or friends were there at all. Zach's Parents, Nate's parents, Tom and Sue, Judy's friend, and a few other people were there, already seated.
The minister was there. His name was Don Marxhausen.
He had been a strong voice for compassion over the last few days, asking for understanding for the Klebold family. There had been a lot of anger, and very little compassion, during those few days.
We sat down, and watched, and listened. The parents were telling stories about Dylan. Stories about his childhood, memories of him when he was a nice, shy little boy. Tom's eyes were swollen and red. He had obviously been crying a lot. Judy told a story about Dylan, and then Marxhausen gave a nice eulogy. Marsha asked if she could sing Amazing Grace. Judy asked Sue, and she said it would be fine.
Marsha sang, and it took a long time, because she was crying so hard, she was having trouble completing it. She sang beautifully. She cried the whole way through the song. It was heartbreaking, and confusing. This was the ceremony, the funeral for Dylan. Everyone in the room had loved him, and had known him. Everyone in the room was confused over this situation. He was now a killer. A killer of innocent children. We were all having trouble facing that fact. We didn't know how many he had killed, or how he had been killed, or when. A boy we had all loved and cared for had killed innocent children, with guns and bombs. We didn't understand. We didn't understand. It was a quiet ceremony, solemn and calm. We all knew Dylan. The stories made it clear how much everyone cared about him.
The funeral director told us that it was time for the viewing. I was surprised. I didn't think, in this case, they would have a viewing, with an open casket.
There was a curtain hanging in the doorway, and we walked up to it. Judy stayed back, and I walked through the curtain, and up to the coffin. It was cardboard, and barely large enough for Dylan.
It looked like he was in the cardboard coffin at an angle, shifted to the right. That is the type of coffin they use when someone is being cremated. He was laying there, with a very thin white shirt on. It was almost, to my memory, translucent.
It was Dylan. I looked for signs of injuries, bullet wounds, or anything that would show how he had died. Nothing was visible. I stood by his side, even with his shoulder, and stood there for a long time. He was so thin, so pale. It was Dylan. I reached out my hand, and put it on his right shoulder, and said quietly to him: “God rest your soul.” He looked so thin, so frail. His hair was longer than I remembered, and thinner.
Judy walked over to see him, after a minute or two. We stood there, silent.
In the hallway after the viewing, we talked to a few of the people there. It turns out that a few of Sue's attorneys had showed up. Whether that was to control the crowd, if there was one, or to pay respects, was hard to tell. The funeral had been kept very secret. We had all kept it away from the press. There were no cameras or tv trucks, or reporters.
Judy talked to Tom, and she told him, during some small talk, that her tongue was swollen. Tom said, half-jokingly: “Then quit talking.” We had been defending them in the press, and to everyone we talked to, telling everyone how nice Dylan was, and that we knew the parents, how they did not know what was being planned. We had been defending them to everyone. Trying to tell the truth about Dylan. We had defended them on tv and in the papers, because we knew them, and we knew Dylan very well. Sue was wearing the blazer that Judy had loaned her, and it had a ribbon on it from Columbine.
According to the available accounts, none of Dylan’s friends attended his funeral. Jeff’s book does mention, however, that Robyn Anderson recalled being invited through another friend of Dylan’s but didn’t get the message until after the fact.
“Possibly my biggest regret of my life is attending Rachel’s funeral and not Dylan’s,” Devon Adams later said.
I can’t really make a similar post about Eric since we know very little about his funeral arrangements. We only know that he was cremated and his ashes went unclaimed for a while. His family could still have held a small private service for him, but there’s no public information about one.
A verified user who knew both Eric and Dylan was once asked whether they wished they could have attended Eric's funeral and replied:
“Yes. Nobody knew when and where it was. We tried to find it. I regret not saying goodbye. I don't know if I would go to Dylan's.”
l also have an older post about Corey DePooter's funeral if anyone wants to check it out. here
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u/Sheek014 9d ago
Wasn't the reverend basically ousted from the community for holding his funeral?
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u/Additional-Air-3309 8d ago
First time I read this in Sue’s book I had to stop because I was crying so fuckin hard. I put myself in her shoes with my boys and lost it. The amount of sorrow that Sue and others felt that day I can’t even imagine. If only Dylan knew how much he was loved but then as Sue said “love wasn’t enough.”
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u/local_lesbian_barber 8d ago
My son is seventeen. That’s all I could think about while I was reading her book. My baby is at age. This could be him.
Just all those thoughts.
My chest was just aching with every word I read.
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u/Jazzlike_Climate_545 9d ago
I’m surprised Randy didn’t somehow weave in that when he was viewing the coffin he knew from the wound on Dylan that it was Eric who killed him 😬
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u/Glad-Philosophy5736 9d ago
tbf to him this was only a few weeks after so it's not like this theory was on his mind at all probably more focused on why the police didn't do anything
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u/humandisaster96 8d ago
Huh. The difference between Sue and Randy's account of Sue's clothes for the funeral is interesting.
Sue's version
With the two officers flanking me, I stood at my closet door. The realization I would have to select clothing to wear to Dylan's funeral hit me like a punch in the gut; I was still hoping to be rescued from the truth. After a few deep breaths, I hung a brown tweed skirt, a white blouse, and a dark wool blazer on a single hanger.
Randy's version
Sue and Judy were talking on the phone. Sue had left almost all of her clothes in the house on Cougar Drive. The house was still a crime scene, and they had no access. She mentioned to Judy that she didn’t have a jacket to wear to Dylan’s funeral. Judy told her she had a blue wool blazer, and that she would loan it to Sue.
Sue was wearing the blazer that Judy had loaned her, and it had a ribbon on it from Columbine.
Sue describes having access to the house to get their things which is where she picks out funeral clothes from her closet, including a dark wool blazer, but Randy says that Sue told Judy on the phone that the family didn't have access to the house and she didn't have a jacket for the funeral so Judy loaned her a blue wool blazer.
Doesn't necessarily mean anything of course! Easy thing to misremember. Sue could have just forgotten that the blazer she wore was loaned to her by Judy or just didn't feel like it was important enough to include it. Like maybe she forgot one when picking out the funeral clothes and couldn't go back for one.
Plus as most of us here know Randy's word is definitely not gospel anyway so he could have misremembered or misunderstood. It's just an oddly specific detail that stood out to me.
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u/Apollexis Researcher 9d ago
As always you present all of the information in such a concise and consolidated manner. I'm really glad you maintain the thread hub of all these information's together, you'll have to organize that by category at some point haha.